I Thirst For Your Rivers
by Jessica Pendragon
Summary: Catch her until you fall. Prompt fill: "Have you lost your damn mind?"


Solas wipes sweat from his brow under the glaring desert sun, both thankful and despairing at the mage's hood protecting his bare scalp but keeping the heat close to his face. His robes are soaked and stiff, limbs tired and feet sore. In the past, he spent little time exploring these wastelands of the west. Some memories sit beneath the sands like brilliant oases, but they are too few to warrant warring against the harsh elements for long.

The others are no better. Blackwall's heavy feet sink deep into the sand and every step he takes has become slower under the weight of his armor. Sera's angry, expressive rants still echo in Solas' mind, but now the rogue walks silent and saves what little energy still remains. Keela charges ahead of them as always. Fire is her element and her darkened skin fairs well in the sun, but even she starts to stumble through the thick earth.

They search for the last remnants of Darkspawn in the area yet the creatures allude their every effort. Solas knows they should have quit the field long ago, but Keela's stubborn nature presses them onward. They have all tried to reason with her in their own ways which only stokes her determination.

Frustration and fatigue make Keela's usual movements clumsy and he sees his own aches in the way her legs begin to tremble. When Griffon Wing Keep comes into view, Solas attempts again. "I believe we have done all we can for today, Inquisitor. Would it not be best to save our strength and press onward tomorrow?"

"It would be best if we finished our missions here as soon as possible so we never have to come back," Keela responds. "They have to be so close! Blackwall?"

"Sorry Inquisitor, but right now I don't think I could sense an archdemon if it were right behind me."

"Fenedhis!" Keela growls, more profanity slipping between her clenched teeth as she kicks at the ground.

"Inquisitor-"

"What!" She turns, no doubt to release her rage, but the motion shifts the sand beneath her feet. It slides away and takes her with it. For a few seconds she wavers upright before falling onto her backside and tumbling the rest of the way down the dune head over feet.

Sera laughs, hands braced against her knees, as Solas follows with swift feet after her. He catches Keela as she's fighting to stand back up and quickly checks her for injuries. Sand falls like rain from her but clings to her wet skin, her hair, her clothes. She lets out a snarl and spits the invasive grains from her mouth as best she can.

Solas reaches out to help. "Keela-"

"Don't!" She swats away his hands and tries to climb back to the others. Her blinded steps do not get her very far. The sand sucks at her boots and twists her legs up until she finds herself crashing to her hands and knees. Far above, Sera's laughter renews and Solas is not sure which elf he finds himself more agitated with at the moment.

"Go ahead. Tell me I'm being childish and reckless, that I deserve this. I know it's on the tip of your tongue," Keela says, voice laced with bitterness. "If I can't find a handful of Darkspawn, I'll never find Corypheus. I'll never, I…"

She throws a handful of grains into the wind and glares at her feet. Blooms of red grow on her cheeks and Solas does not think they're from the sun. He does want to chastise her for this behavior, but the words evaporate at the sight of her now. She is tired, beaten, embarrassed. Of all the things she needs, his lectures are not one of them. She needs…

With a sigh, Solas squats down in front of her and pulls the hood away from his head. When he sure she is watching, he scoops a hand into the sand and in one graceful motion pours it atop the crest of his skull. The fine crystals race across his cheeks and down the collar of his tunic, tickling his skin, but it is the look of shock on Keela's face that makes him want to grin.

"Solas!" His name is a mixture of surprise and hesitant laughter. "What are you doing?"

"I am curious to see if your new technique has merit for traversing the Western Approach with more ease," he replies as he spreads sand across his arms, over his shoulders. "It seems like it might inhibit movement, however you have surprised me before."

When he pulls away the neck of tunic, proposing to pour the contents of his hand into the garment, Keela lets out a peal of laughter this time and moves to stop him. Solas is grateful for her interference, but more so by the way her face finally clears of its troubling thoughts. Her yellow eyes are bright, amused, relieved.

He knows he will hear no end of this from Sera, even perhaps Blackwall. His actions are unlike the aloof apostate he has made them believe he is, but there are parts of himself that he buries deep within the tombs of his own regrets. Every smile she offers changes him, changes everything, and he will suffer their torments for these moments when he can reveal that which is hidden.

"I can't believe you…" she laughs again and sweeps away the fine dusting of sand from his chest. Her hand goes higher to rest against his cheek and he does not mind this warmth that her touch brings. There is merriment in her gaze, but she is searching for something, as if he might be a treasure map so close to giving up its secrets. He lets her see more than most and wishes he could be more. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

Solas grasps her hand, leaving a kiss against the palm, before placing it over his heart. "Not my mind, no."


End file.
